Faction before blood
by NightBurd
Summary: Faction choosing is no longer an option; Once born in a faction, you're stuck there. Each year, to remind the factions of the Dark Days, the Hunger Games are held, where 50 teenagers from the ages of 12 to 18 are brought to the Capitol in waves from each faction to kill others. May the odds be ever in their favours, and let the Games, begin!
1. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Hey'yall! (just bein' spontaneous)**

**So this is a very complicated story which will either be my best FanFic so far, or the worst story in the world...SPONTANEOUS :D**

**Anyway, so if I made any grammar mistakes in the story, feel free to write me a review about it. Or write me a review anyway 'cos I like reviews...makes me feel like someone actually read it, y'know? Please write some nice CONSTRUCTIVE criticism if you do post a review or PM me, but don't tell me how to write my story please :) **

**I do NOT own the Hunger Games trilogy and/or the Divergent trilogy. They belong to the legends; Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth. **

**But I have changed the Hunger Games a lot...and the factions. So please, read on!**

**Thanks, and sorry for babbling. XP**

**xxNightBurdxx**


	2. History

Faction before blood

Chapter One

History

"...and after the war of the factions against the glorious Capitol, we named the tragic event, the Dark Days..."

I sit at my desk, my palm pressed against my cheek as I register a dull ache coming from my elbow. It's been propped up on the polished wooden desk too long, and the constant droning of my teacher on a boring topic that I've heard too many times is not helping my slowly increasing depression.

BRRRRING!

My head jerks up as the bell rings for the end of school. Mrs Johnson looks up, startled that she has no more time to kill her students with boredom, and frowns. I swear, if looks could kill, there would be not a living teenager in the classroom as the Year Tens race out of the classroom, squeezing through the door and joining the throng of students all rushing to their classrooms. I hesitate for a second, deciding that I shouldn't bother to go for registration. But I hesitate for too long, and get knocked down by a boy wearing red and yellow.

"Oh Grace I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" I look up to see a familiar face, wide smile and brown haired boy in a deep red shirt and golden trousers extending a hand towards me. I smile and clutch at his hand, pulling myself up until I unbend my knees and brush the dust off of my red T-shirt.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's ok Jared." I am smiling at him as I turn to walk down the hallway with Jared next to me.

"How was Faction History?" he asks.

"Well...it's not my favourite subject." I admit, and he laughs. A kind laugh, a sort of secure, lucky laugh. It always makes me feel so peaceful, like everything is right. Something feels warm and fuzzy inside of me as we stroll down the hallway together. I stretch my arm around his back and rest it on his shoulder, before he flicks it of and turns to me, his bright green eyes filled with shock and confusion.

"Grace," he smiles. He steps a little way away from me and shakes his head. "I have to go to my classroom and get my coat. Maybe I'll see you at Head Quarters?" he adds. I nod sadly. He smiles again, and turns around to weave his way back through the crowd, pushing against them.

I watch him go sadly. He is right. I don't know, I just wanted to be...close to him. He has no idea how many times I have dreamed of telling him how much I like him, how much I love him. And him loving me back. But he has no idea. I sigh, and run towards the door, my bag still slung over my shoulder as I brush my ginger hair out of my face, and follow it with my fingers down to the very tips, right down to the start of my red denim skirt.

I hate wearing skirts. But all of my friends wear skirts, and in Amity, trousers are really for men and boys. It's a look that radiates happy and peaceful, and I must admit, the girls like Eve and Lucy do look pretty. Beautiful, even.

Walking down the street it's just a big laughing group of Amity, as we make our way down to the bus stop.

There's always a couple of laughing kids in a group of Amity, but I can tell that it's subdued. There are less laughing kids, and usually beaming faces have been switched with worried and even petrified looks, all for tonight. Two men in white garments and helmets escort us down the road to the buses. The Peacekeepers always keep tabs on us one way or another on the reaping day. Wether it's tracking a family car, or posting Peacekeepers on buses. They're worried we'll escape. After all, they talk to us during the reaping video somehow, and when you've been spoken to by a Peacekeeper, you know you're a tribute. But you can't tell anyone. I don't know what happens if you do, because no one ever has. But then that night, you're told to sneak away whilst everyone is asleep, and if you don't then they come and get you. I know that much.

I show my Amity card to the Peacekeeper who is driving the bus, and once everyone is on, I sit down on the red fabric chairs with the yellow patterns on, and I lift the armrest up so that I can lean my elbow on it like I did ten minutes ago.

Another boy that I recognise comes and sits next to me, and I lift my head up off of my elbow and smile nervously at him.

"Max."

"Hey Grace," he ruffles his ginger hair and looks at me with the same anxious gaze that I'd imagine was on my eyes as I stared out of the window. "You look scared. The reaping getting you down?" Max asks me gently. I nod absentmindedly. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

"You know they won't choose you," he starts. "There are millions of Amity in this country, and only fifty get picked, twenty-six this first time. It's very unlikely." he soothes.

"You don't have to worry, you're past your prime age." I grumble. Most kids who go in are fifteen years old or younger, and I am fifteen years and twelve days old, whereas Max is seventeen, and today is the fabled day. The fourth of October is here.

"Sure, it's your prime age, but just think, there are around three million Amity, all attending different schools across the country, but all living in three huge buildings. Twenty-six go in tonight," Max jerks me back to the present. "You aren't gonna be with them."

I sit back in my seat and nod, before I turn to stare out of the window, brushing my long hair away from my eyes again.

The bus takes about ten minutes before everyone gets off at the middle giant wooden structure before us, lined with millions of windows. Everyone has their own separate room, but parents with children under twelve all live in the left building, twelve to eighteen year olds in the middle building, and fifty-five to...well, however long they live I suppose in the right building. It's a beautiful society, no fighting or arguing at all, just a huge beautiful community. But it's annoying. The rules don't make sense to me. Everyone is just too smiley sometimes, and I can't bear it. I get so angry inside about the Capitol, the Games and the Peacekeepers, but I'm not allowed to scream or punch my pillow, so I have to keep it inside, and that doesn't make sense to me. But still, when my problems are gone, I look around and feel so grateful that I live in this beautiful world.

As we arrive, we walk past the giant dining room, the lounge and the gallery, and we all separate to go straight up to our rooms, until it's just me and Max, since our rooms are right next door. He gives me a little nod before he opens the door and disappears from view.

I press my hand against a round black scanner, and some red and yellow lines go up and down my hand for about two seconds, before it gives a sort of satisfied ping! and there's a sucking sound as the door opens to the sight of my messy room.

There's a tall bin strewn with clothes that I haven't bothered to properly push in, a single bed against the left hand wall in the corner, an unpolished wooden bedside table on it with a couple of books and my clock. Then the drawers on the right hand side, my mirror on top of that, and finally the back wall is made of glass. I love that. Me and Max have the back view, overlooking the orchards, and at this time of year there are apples on the ground, the trees just losing the last of their leaves, and people in yellow and red scurrying on the ground to collect all the apples before they rot. It's nice, but in summer, when the apples are all hanging on the trees, and the sunlight falls on the ground in dappled patterns through the leaves, and I could sit on the hard wood floor in front of the window for hours on end.

But today I sit in front of the window, cross-legged, feeling sad. Max is right. It's only 13 boys and 13 girls out of three million today, and even less over the next month and a half or so. But I can't shake the feeling that it's me this time. Of course, I have this every year, and I haven't been reaped yet. So maybe it's just my nerves.

I sigh and pul open my drawers and sift through the jumpers and T-shirts, until I find a beautiful red dress. It has a matching cardigan with sleeves that come down to my elbow, and it is long and flowing, almost touching the ground. The Peacekeepers and the Capitol want us to treat the Hunger Games as an exciting holiday, something to be proud of, and something honourable. The factions see the truth, that it is just a horrible, inhuman reality TV show, designed to keep the Capitol sitting pretty and entertained, and the factions depressed and completely helpless.


	3. The Video

Chapter Two

The Video

I make my way down to the reaping in the dress, walking slowly in flat red shoes to the annual reaping room. The french doors at the back of the huge wooden hall are open and so despite the cardigan, I'm rubbing my shoulders to try and keep warm.

The hall is made of unpolished wood, like every other building in Amity, and a glass chandelier hangs from the high wooden ceiling. On the opposite end of the hall, there is a large TV screen where the video is shown, and I see our presenter and escort of the games, who from here looks the size of my thumb.

As soon as I enter the hall, a Peacekeeper roughly swings me to the side and jabs a needle in my arm. I hiss with surprise. Well, it also stings a little.

I glare at him as his machine bleeps and he ushers me over to a group of girls and boys that I recognise from my class. One, my friend Lucy, grabs my hand and squeals.

"Aw, Grace, you look so pretty!" she giggles.

"I highly doubt that." I respond dryly. Don't get me wrong, Lucy is my closest friend apart from my brother in Amity, but she's just so...she's just so Amity. She giggles all the time, and she's always hyped up about everything, and she squeals a lot, and she's always sweet and cute. It may be adorable from a distance, but within range she's just so _irritating_.

She laughs. It's not like my laugh. It's high pitched, and delicate, like chime bells in the wind. That's how she is; delicate. Lucy has blonde hair which is always flowing down to her waist, and cute little blue eyes, a thin body and a white, toothy smile.

"Haha! You're so funny Grace." she smiles.

Oh, and she's stupid.

I cross my arms and force a smile, walking over towards the seventeen section, and my eyes find Jared's. I walk over to him, my legs unwilling to move. _I've got to tell him now_, I think. He is so happy now, and I'm sure at this moment that he loves me back. I approach his group, and he looks down at me after talking with his mates.

"Oh, hi Grace." he laughs. Everyone laughs round here...It makes me so annoyed sometimes. I have to stop thinking like this. I could get thrown out of the country for thinking like that!

"Hey, Jared. Listen, about earlier," He leans in closer. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me," I sigh. _No_. I tell myself. It's now or never. Maybe I _do_ get reaped, and I never get to tell him! "Actually, I do."

Jared looks surprised.

"I love you Jared. I have for a couple of years now, but I never told you because-"

I'm cut off by a burst of laughter as all of Jared's friends stare at me and he blushes brighter than the colour of my dress.

I feel my throat tightening, and my eyes burn as tears squeeze out of my squinting green eyes. I turn to run back to my section, but something warm catches my hand and pulls me back. I turn to see Jared, still burning red and looking shocked.

"Hey, Grace, after the reaping, do you want to come and have dinner with me?" he asks me. Now it's my turn to be shocked.

"You...you love me back?" I stammer, barely aware of the group of boys still sniggering in the background.

"Well, no," he stares at the floor, and straightens up as his eyes meet mine. "But I like you. A lot. And I know you're not exactly the type of girl that I go out with...y'know, pretty and all, but I'm willing to give it a try." he finishes.

I blink back at him, my mouth wide open. I snap it back up. I notice his hand is still clenched in mine, and I smile. He's right. I'm no where near pretty, and Jared, of all people, the most popular, charming and handsome boy in the building _wants me_. I should be honoured, but instead I feel sad. I brush the thought away, like the snow off a branch on a tree in winter.

"Of course!" I smile at him, and after a seconds hesitation, I fall into his arms and hug him, before I rush away, back to my section. I feel goofy and unstable...Jared said _yes_!

Lucy has gone off to talk to some of her friends, but I can hardly tell or care..I'm swaying on my feet.  
"Welcome, welcome, welcome!"

The distinct and irritatingly fake voice of Metella Yellowman rings out across the hall, snapping me back to the current situation at hand. I'm going to be reaped. And then what will my dinner with Jared matter? The Amity never win!

"Is everyone excited for the 74th annual Hunger Games?"

Silence. You could hear a pin drop as every single child in the room crosses their fingers and squeezes their eyes tight shut, hoping against the fate that could so easily befall them.

Metella purses her lips unhappily, and turns to the cameras that stand above us on platforms. Our escort for Amity looks horrific, as usual. I often wonder how the people of the Capitol can dress in such a way, to shock our nation and bring young children to cry. She is wearing a huge bushy white wig, that sends curls bursting out from the side of her head, and her dark skin has been lined with white glitter, that has the effect of vines growing down her arms. She wears a white dress too, that looks practically indescribable, although I shall honestly do my best.

The neck of the dress comes low, only appearing around where her armpits should start, and goes in a straight line across her, with the sleeves stopping as abruptly as they started. The dress hugs her curves perfectly, accenting her skinny shape, and just as it reaches the waistline, coils of white fur explode from the dress, all the way down to the bottom of her shoes, which I cannot see. It bushes out far and wide, and it looks an effort to walk in it, although she manages it as if she were walking barefoot in pyjamas.

And suddenly, completely out of the blue, I think of a comeback to Max's assurance. He said there were around three million Amity. But actually, there are only around half a million teenagers, tipping the odds even further against me.

"But first, a message from our great leaders in the Capitol." she beams, back on her feet after the silence that met her enthusiasm. 

_Enthusiasm at our dooms. _I think miserably.

The old film starts up, showing the quick but boring story of how we all came to be here today, so totally at the Capitol's disposal.

Long, long ago, the so called factions lived, and although I have never met or seen a real person from another faction/country in real life, I know that they do exist, because I have seen them when I have been forced to watch the brutal killing of the faction people on the television in my room.

Each person stood, and still stands for a different principle, than a person in another faction. And these factions and people had names, luckily for us.

There was a faction that stood for selflessness, that frowned upon mirrors, photos, birthday parties, and most things that I do now for pure joy. They do things only for the benefit of others, and wear grey, always tying up their hair to try and fade into the background. This faction was called Abnegation.

Next, there was us. Amity. We do not support violence under any circumstances, and believe in the right to have fun and joy, and peace above all. We wear yellow and red, and let our hair down 24/7. It's a beautiful society we live in, but I can't help feeling constantly out of place, left out, different.

Anyway, next were the Dauntless. They also believe in the right to do things for joy, but were and are, the complete opposite of us Amity. They believe in the courage to drive off fear, and not let them influence our decisions in anything, in killing fear, in conquering it. They wear black, and have tattoos and piercings...they are always called crazy and frowned upon round here, but I long to meet someone who knows how to use a knife for defense, rather than just for cutting food and spreading butter. Someone who lives on the wild side. Someone who stands up for themselves.

And then there was Candor, who saw the truth in black and white, and so that is what they wore. They all, young and old, learnt to tell when someone was telling the truth and a lie, and how to hide the truth and lies. I have never thought very much of them, because they rarely win the games, much like us. Except, really, we have no chance, where they have a slither of hope.

After them was the last faction; the Erudite. They were all about knowledge, about a healthy and everlasting curiosity about the way things work, and about how things got here, how to improve them, and how to make new things. They are responsible for most of the inventions we have here.

In those times, children were able to take a test to see which faction they belonged in, and could switch if they wanted to. But here, that isn't an option anymore.

And a long time ago, we all lived together in harmony. Different areas of a city, but still in one city. One huge city, in one huge country. And then the Capitol invaded us. They demanded that we give them the products of our activities, like food, water, discoveries and luxuries. Of course, the Dauntless ran head first into war, and got shot down and enslaved by the Capitol with shocking speed. Outraged, the other factions, apart from Amity, ran to war too, and they also became slaves to the 'great empire'. The Capitol charged into our ancestors land, and took us all, since we did not fight back. That is what separates me from the others in my faction. In that situation, I would have fought for my friends, family and faction. They say faction before blood. I would have fought for both.

In the end, the Capitol's weapons of war wrecked the the land, and split it into five large islands, and leaving the Capitol on the rich huge country in the north. Coincidentally, the factions and the Capitol were all on different lands. And since then, we have had the Hunger Games, a televised reality show, where fifty of our teenagers head into a created arena somewhere in the Capitol land, where we are forced to fight to the death while everyone in our nations watch, and the Capitol sit entertained. There is only one rule;

Kill, or be killed.

All the factions have taken a turn for the worse, but Amity especially. Since our principles are no arguing or fighting, and peace triumphs over all, we have only ever won a single Game.

The Capitol say they have another Capitol in another part of the world. But what happens over there? Are there other factions also wilting from the Capitol's cruelty and Games?

Each faction gives the Capitol a different thing;

The Amity provide food, the Dauntless weapons and coal, the Erudite new inventions and technology, the Candor books and games, and the Abnegation clothes and furniture, home decorations and such.

And for the Hunger Games, the victory group, there are usually only five or so, receive a beautiful house to themselves, not the ramshackle rooms we have here, and food and gifts will rain on their faction for a year, until the next Hunger Games start. Considering we provide the food, we hardly get any, and the Amity strive to remain happy on the outside. The reaping system isn't complicated. They go through the list of names from each of the factions and pick some at random.

The tributes, the children chosen for the Hunger Games, come in waves from each faction:

Twenty-six who will be chosen in a few minutes, thirteen boys and thirteen girls, and then twenty, ten boys and ten girls, half way through the month and a half long Games, and then finally only one boy or girl from each faction arrives, only a couple of days from the finish. That is the worst place to be. Those people later on get reaped during the lunchtime in school. One of the teachers tells them, and then they don't come back.

The video flicks off, and a sign comes on to the TV, and Metella grins. The sign reads:

**PLEASE BE SILENT FOR THE REAPING.**

It's going to be now. I have to be reaped now or I will not be picked this year.

In the next ten seconds I stand there, my eyes squeezed tight, my fingers crossed and my head bent, but I hear nothing, and Metella's voice booms out over the hall again.

"Thank you. The Hunger Games will start in five days, as you know, so good luck to those of you chosen, and may the odds,

_be ever in your favour_."


	4. Not as it seems

Chapter Three

Not as it seems

I stand there in shock. So does everyone else in the hall I suppose. Maybe not the reaped.

I wasn't reaped. I'm not going to die, and I'm having dinner with Jared and all the popular kids! Well, in Amity there is a strictly no hatred or arguing rule, so it's not quite the whole popular thing. Instead, it's basically the most handsome and beautiful people within Amity. I realise that I'm smiling. How did that happen? Oh well, I can't get it off now, so what's the point.

My eyes find Jared's and he runs over to me, bringing his crowd of beauties with him.

"Jared who's this?" someone at the back of the crowd calls. Jared looks deep into my eyes and holds my hands. His are warm and soft. I'd imagine mine are cold and shaking.

"This is Grace." he replies. He puts his arm around my waist, and tugs me towards to the dining room. The crowds of kids part as we come through, most staring and then smiling and congratulating us.

For the Amity, the hand-on-waist is a big thing. It symbolises love and care, protectiveness and peace. It means "Lookie here, this girl's my girlfriend." It means blush as hard as you can because you can't help yourself.

Anyway, there are very few couples in Amity. It's just hard at our ages, to think about the opposite sex with everything else in life. The Hunger Games, for one.

I remember where I am and what I'm doing as we arrive at the dining room, and set our trays down on the middle table. The kids who are on food duty, which changes every week, will have worked all week and done twice the harvesting that we have to lay out our trays with our names on them, and put a pitiful amount of food on them. Today, I have a slice of bread and half a cup of pea and ham soup. That's a delicacy. It's usually cabbage and water.

"So Grace," Jared starts. I beam and sit up. "How long have you liked me for, and when did it start?" he asks me. I smile at him, remembering the day that I first realised that I loved the boy sitting next to me.

"Well, like I said, two years roughly. And it all started when I saw you help up a little girl, and you swung her around your shoulders and sang to her. And ever since then, I just thought, wow. I love this boy." I blush. The girls at our table giggle and aw.

Jared tilts his head sideways and looks at me.

"You're sweet. I guess I could get used to this." he says. I stare at him lovingly. I bet he's got a million other girls falling at his feet, but still he chose me. I feel honoured.

Over dinner he asks me all sorts of questions, and it's like a romantic interview really, except an interview where I can't take my eyes off of my questioner. But no one had much food, and we had to sit there until there was no one else in the dining room, eventually admitting defeat and going up to our separate rooms. Afterwards we stand in the corridor, outside his bedroom door. I stare up at him. I'm not really very short, in fact I'm tall for my age, but Jared is a giant compared to most people in the building. I look at him, trying to express just how much love I have stored for him in my heart over these years. Then he looks up at me and smiles, and he brings his hand up to pull the neck of my dress open a little, and I close my eyes and press my lips together, trying not to slap him. Suddenly, I breath, and I do, I gasp and cough actually, as Jared's weight is brought off of me. But the bliss of movement lasts for a second, as I hear a loud smack, and then a thud, then someone grabs the back of my dress and pulls me away towards my door. I press my hand against it and the person comes in with me, as I perch, stunned, on the end of my makeshift bed. I look up to see that my savior/attacker, is Max.

"What the hell were you doing with him?" he yells at me, pointing back at the door as it slams behind him. I start shaking. "What the hell were you doing, with _Jared King_? With the boy of the building, that, that bastard?!" he yells at me.

I sit, stunned on the end of my bed. I have only ever heard that word one before, when one of the Dauntless said it on the Hunger Games. And nobody in Amity ever yells. I have never seen my brother like this. He is positively shaking with rage.

"You're only fifteen for god's sake, and that boy has been with every girl in our year!" he yells again. "Why, would you want to be with him?" he shakes. But now, he shakes with fear, and with anger.

Our parents both died in the Hunger Games, but in Amity, it's hard to come by contraceptives...she had be and Max just months before she was reaped. Most would call it stupid and reckless, but how can we, when that was the story of out birth? Ever since they died, we were looked after by the volunteers in the nursery, and then after that, from when he was around eight, Max became my parent. He was my father, protecting me, getting mad at me for making him worried, and showing me cool things. And he was my mother, being kind to me, cuddling up with me when I had nightmares, helping me with things and giving me advice. And occasionally scolding me.

He sits next to me now, in a slouched heap on my bed, his eyes burning. I put my hand on his belly, an Amity gesture of love towards a friend or family member.

"I'm sorry Max. I didn't mean to. I've loved him for years now, and I told him before the reaping. He said I could have dinner with him, and I did. It's like a dream come true." I explain. Max glares at me.

"But why does it mean so much to you?" I asked. Now he looked up at me, his eyes shiny and his face wet with tears.

"Because I...well...actually, I don't know," he sighs. "I just don't want you to be with anyone. You're too young."

He waves his hand in my direction dismissively.

"You aren't very Amity today Max." I say simply, because I can't think of anything to come back at him with. I love Jared. Max may be just over-protective. I look back up at him.

He shakes his head and sighs.

"I'm not, am I Grace?" he stands up, as if this is a deep question he needs to think about, and he walks out of my room.

I sit there on my bed for a couple of minutes, too annoyed and confused to cry, before I get into my pyjamas. It's only seven o'clock, so it's weird that I'm tired...but the bed seems to be calling me to sleep, and my eyelids are dragging down to blind me the longer I stay awake, and so I fall into bed in a far too-big-for-me T-shirt and red tartan bottoms.

I am asleep before my head reaches the pillow.

My eyes blink open at-

I twist over to check my clock on the bedside table.

-midnight, to the sound of some rustling. I sit up slightly to look around my bedroom, before a hand clamps over my mouth from behind. I start wriggling and screaming, but although I can hear them as loud as they should be, I can tell that they are muffled, and that no one will help me. I try and move my head to see who's holding me, as they lift me up from my bed and carry me feet first towards my open door. Now's my chance; Max will hear even the muffled screaming from out here. I scream as loud as I possibly can, and in return I get a hard slap across the face, that stuns me into silence.

"Shut. _Up_." he snarls in my ear. I have gathered that it's a he from how deep his voice is, and the roughness of his hands. But his mean commands make me hate him even more than I already do for dragging me out of bed at _midnight_ and tell me to shut up. That's a Dauntless phrase. Is this man just mean, or from Dauntless?

A horrible thought freezes my wriggling.

What if it's Jared?

I shake it away. I would recognise his smell and his voice, whereas this man is strange and unfamiliar to me. He smells of rusted iron, which is more a taste that I have put to a scent.

And besides, this man is swinging me, gagged and bound, into a white Peacekeeper's car.


	5. I have rights

Chapter Four

I have rights.

**This chapter is really short...sorry bout that guys :(**

The car has been on this one long, very bumpy road for about twenty minutes now, and though I continue to glare at the Peacekeeper who watches me from the passenger seat, my bravado is fading as I start to feel queasy. No one speaks, but my gag has been released. I guess by now we're far away from the Amity compound, but I can't tell, because the windows were blacked out for the last minutes. Now though, they come down like black paint washing off, and I can see out into the farms away from the compound.

"What are you then?" I spit at the one in the passenger seat. "Rogue Peacekeepers?" I am laughing at the idea when I say it, because it's just so...unthinkable. The children raised in the Capitol have everything they could ever need and more, so why would they leave?

My laugh is cut short as I hear a crack, and my face stings. My hand launches to try and sooth my cheek, and I look up at the Peacekeeper who slapped me.

"What was that for?" I cry in outrage. He raises his hand, and I curse myself because I whimper and duck my head. A sign of weakness. "I have rights y'know!"

I don't want them to think they own me, but in this car, where I am there prisoner, and they can take me anywhere in Amity that they want, I must admit that I really am, utterly, at their disposal.

"We are not rogues," the passenger says to me, hissing his 's' with the most annoying of all the Capitol accents I think I've just about ever heard. "We are active Peacekeepers, and actually, as of now, you don't."

But that's all he says. I roll my eyes, trying to seem brave although I am shaking, and I look out the window. But I immediately wish I hadn't.

To my left and right, there are numerous cars exactly like the one I'm in, closing in to form a great big line on this bumpy road. And ahead us, is a train station.

I am not being taken to a rogue Peacekeeper camp and held for ransom. I'm being taken to the Capitol, for the Hunger Games.

The Peacekeepers all laugh at my expression.

"What am I then? A wild card?" I manage to stammer.

"No. This is way the tributes are brought to the Games. No one in the hall heard _anything_. You were chosen then though. And in the morning they'll discover you gone, and your family and friends will cry for hours, wondering why you didn't tell them."

My head snaps towards a man, with a grey scarred chin, and a familiar face and accent. His accent is one from Amity. And he is none other than Henry Innman; the leader of the only group to ever win from Amity, and the only of his three to still live. I have never seen him in real life, but I guess he'll be our mentor. We only have one mentor, the fifty of us, and he'll coach us in our waves before we go in. Things like tactics and survival strategies and weapons-Well, he won't coach us with weapons. The Amity never use weapons. But I just think that this year we should. I don't want to die. I don't want to be a guilty wimp either, but I honestly don't want to die.

I see in one of the car windows closest to me, there is a boy, only just turned twelve. I remember his birthday party. Everyone loves him, and his party was one of the few happy memories I have. But that's mostly because he didn't know about the Hunger Games until his first reaping. He was furious, and petrified. His parents didn't want him to know. And now, here he is pressed up against the window without a top, and some red shorts, his blonde hair, spiked and messy and his face drenched with tears. His eyes seem closed, but his hand suddenly bangs off the window and reaches for something, as if he spotted me and were asking for help. I shake my head, point to the red spot of my face, and raise my hands in a high shrugging posture. I can't help him.

The road becomes smooth as we approach the station. No bumps to give me a headache or reason to be sick. But my relief lasts briefly, as we speed up and I am shoved out of the car, and onto the pavement before the station. It should be pitch black, but the station lights illuminate a few things, but cast bigger, and darker shadows behind others, making it worse in a sense. The boy across from me is still sobbing, and I stare on with sympathy as he throws up his pitiful supper, and probably his lunch too, out onto the ground. He hasn't even finished before the Peacekeeper escorting him pushes him roughly towards the door, still sobbing. That is the last thing I see before a scratchy sack of some sort comes down over my head, and I stumble forward with confusion in the darkness.

I feel it when we come in. Not 'it'. Not like some scary monster lurking in the darkness to wrestle me to the ground while I remain blind...no, but I feel the air change. It is colder. Maybe on a hot day this would be relieving, but today it tells me that I am surrounded by metal, and this is not something that I can adjust to having lived inside wood and glass my entire life.

I stumble some more, down a dark alleyway. I can only tell this because I can see faint circles of light, like the blurry glow of fireflies. Except, I can only see it faintly through a sack. So now I'm in a dark place, surrounded by Peacekeepers, in a metal alleyway-

I think I'm going underground. I am tripping down steps, lots of steps, and I'm surprised as I step down one last time to feel straight ground beneath me. I hate that. Although, I must admit that there isn't much cause for someone to blindfold you and lead you down some stairs to your death, only to find that one step is the floor. Because why on earth would someone do that?

The footsteps in time with mine and the shoulders that I brushed against are gone now. I didn't know that we weren't allowed to see the other tributes. Not the ones from our country anyway. The sack is pulled off, and I'm left alone in a..tube. A room in a tube. There are doors on either end, but they are painted black, so I see nothing behind them. There's a beautiful bed, made of glass, and with silk sheets and a puffy, tempting mattress. I wonder how the glass doesn't shatter? Above the door opposite the bed, is a clock on the wall, digital. But it fascinates me. It's not on the wall...it sticks out of the wall, hovers underneath the ceiling.

A hologram.

I remember them from the Hunger Games I have been forced to watch with my Max, and my parents. There is always a giant version of this in the arena, to show the deaths of the tributes that day. It hovers in the sky, but you can never see it unless the Gamemakers want you to. Maybe it's just not there when they don't show you anything. I never thought of it like that. There is a wardrobe, a little door, and some drawers. I catch a glimpse of something moving.

Through the windows, the Peacekeepers from before are standing in front of the tube. They are standing on a platform, and behind them is another tube. But weirdly, they're moving away...

My eyes open wide as I realise that it's not them. It's me who's moving.

This tube is pushing me away from them, and into the darkness. But as soon as the platform disappears, the orchard from the Amity compound takes it's place in the window. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks, and so I hunch myself in a ball on the bed, and cry myself to sleep.


	6. Long time, no see

Chapter Five

Long time, no see.

I hear a banging somewhere far off, but I squeeze my eyes shut and refuse to wake up.

The banging continues. But this time there is a desperate sobbing to it. I squeeze my eyes as hard as I can, and clutch the silky pillow to my chest. I don't want to come back. I want to fall asleep and wake up in the orchards, picking apples with Max. The sobbing is now wailing, and the banging has given me a headache. There is no point in trying. I will never get to sleep with this racket.

I open my eyes hesitantly. I immediately close them again. In Amity, we hardly ever use electric lights. Candles are only for staying up, which is frowned upon anyway. 'We sleep when the sun sleeps, and rise when the sun rises.' My culture teacher told me that.

Thinking of home makes a lump in my throat, one that I can't swallow, so I force my eyes open into the unnatural brightness of the tube.

It is a luxurious, fashionable tube, for a tube. The walls are draped in silk, disguising plastic-feeling walls of dull grey, the drawers and wardrobe are made of a metal lined with fur, so that when I slip some clothes on, they are warm inside and out. My Amity clothes are crumpled and smelly, and although I wish to keep them on to remind me of home, I cannot bear to look at them, because actually reminding me of home will make me cry again, like the crying person to the tube on my right, if I'm facing the doors.

Instead I slip on a red jumper a couple of sizes too big for me, because I like the loose, baggy feel, and some red denim jeans. I can tell that the Capitol have tried to make it seem like I am wearing clothes from home, but they have it all wrong.

The fabric in my clothes is rougher, whereas a real Amity item of clothing will always have soft, can't-stop-running-your-fingers-along-it smoothness, and for girls, always a bow somewhere. I can't see a bow, or headband anywhere in my room. My clothes are too plain to be Amity-made, and to me, this is a sign of carelessness. Why, when you have all the materials you could ever want, would you make a rubbish copy of a style of clothing that, with five minutes extra work, could be authentic? It's rude, but instead of feeling angry and cross, I feel the tidal-wave of sadness that has been threatening to grab me any second. I have to keep myself busy or I'll start thinking, remembering, and then crying. I am scared that once I start to cry, I will never stop.

My eyes wander around the room. By now, Max and all my friends will have woken up to realise that I am gone, and will feel betrayed. They will think I didn't tell them because I didn't trust them or something similar, and..oh. How will Jared react? I shake the thought from my head and focus all of my attention to the clock, which is in Capitol time of course. In Amity, we use clocks with two hands, one for the minutes, and one for the hours. But I have learnt to tell the time with Capitol designed digital digital clocks, so that I can understand the timing on the TV when the Hunger Games is on. I never turn it on for anything else, and so the TV in my room is dusty and old. I didn't bother with the update; what's the point if I'm never going to use it except to watch the slaughter of my people. And I'd rather not watch blood oozing out of injuries and inhuman acts of brutality on wide-screen in high-definition.

My head whips around to light spilling in through the windows, that have been black the whole journey. I was sleeping most of the way, but I am pretty sure that we have been going through one huge, long tunnel. And now, for the first time, I see the Capitol.

They have said that it shines, and it glues the eye, but for these next few moments, I forget that this city has the worst possible history, and probably an even worse future. For now, I see gold and glass buildings that sparkle in the sunlight, reflecting the glare off of the metals and into my eye, so I have to blink and wipe a tear away. But when I look back, there are faces staring back. At me. Smiling, waving people are blowing me kisses and squealing with admiration as the tube comes to a stop. But I look slightly closer, and I change my mind. They are not people at all.

The Capitollans are covered in make up, from head to toe. Some are powdered white, with then striking shades of blood red that make them appear as if they are bleeding, and some have their skin completely died in bizarre shades of yellow, so neon that they almost glow. Then, with a swooshing sound, the doors open. I run through the door, breathing in the fresh air-more like the foggy air. I feel like I am literally breathing in smoke. But there's no time to focus on smoke, because I'm being rushed through the crowd, who are all making adoring noises at me. Strangely, I am the same height as most of them, and they are all adults. I should think that a normal teenager would be at least half a foot taller than everyone in this crowd. The Peacekeepers form a line for me to stumble through, and the Capitollans reach forward, grasping at my hands and my shoulders and cheeks, wanting to feel how a normal girl's skin feels I suppose. Although surely they think far lower of me than my own opinion on myself.

Suddenly, I remember my pyjamas. I twirl around to run back to the tube, but I get knocked down by the elbow of a Peackeeper. He does not stop to apologise, or let me through, he keeps walking, shoving me forward. While the residents of the Capitol are short and very starkly similar to aliens, the Peackeepers and tall, and have a military feel about them.

The tube is drawing out of the station, and I am not making any progress by trying to scramble over and under his arm.

The tube is gone, and I slump, and turn to face the front again, the crowd still threatening to spill over the Peacekeepers and engulf me in their irregularities and patronising words. We move forever forwards, but now there are cameras. They flash in my face, blinding me and making me squint the first couple of times. After a few more flashes, I am immune, and I stare dumbly at the black tubes, awe-struck by their ability to capture my face, possibly enhance it, and then send or press it onto paper through a 'printer'. I will be on all of their digital screens tomorrow. Well, along with the hundred and twenty-nine other tributes brought in for the first wave.

I wonder if these people gawking at me now, know how I was reaped? In fact, not even reaped. Essentially, I was kidnapped for the games. If I make it back, and I doubt I will, I don't care what they do to me, but I'm going to tell all of the Amity about the reaping system. How that last supper you have feeling safe, relieved and secure, could very well be the last hours you have in the building.

But I will not make it back. And that's what's so sad. Everyone who Max has ever loved has left, or been forced to leave him. He will be alone. Unless he finds another love. But unfortunately, after Julia, I doubt he every will.

Someone prods a black fuzzy tipped stick, which I remember is called a microphone, into my face, and nearly bashes my nose, still sore from the Peacekeeper's elbow. The Peacekeepers allow me to stop for this, and a camera is pushed right in my face. The man holding it points at his eyes, and my eyes, indicating that I should look at him only.

"What's your name?" the microphone man asks.

"Grace Hertford." I reply. I sound confident and strong, but I don't sound like me at all.

"And Grace, do you think the Amity have what it takes this year, to become the victors, the winners of the games?"

I nod and put on a big winning smile. "This will be the year."

"And are you willing to go out of the way of your faction's culture to win?"

He means am I willing to kill. I'm on TV. Tell them what they want to hear.

"No, of course not!" I try to act shocked. "But we will return home this year, having no blood on our conscience." I say firmly. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know that they are not true. To go home, I would kill. I don't want to try and win but if I did, I know that I would hurt someone without hesitation.

The longer I think about that, the more untrue it seems. I am willing to _kill, _to return to _Amity_? The faction of peace?

I have no time to think as I am pushed forward through the crowd, answering stupid questions like,

'Which faction are you from?' Amity. I'm wearing red Einstein.

'Do you want to go home to your family as a victor?' Well, lets put it this way; I don't want to die.

'Mrs Hertford, how does it feel to be in the Capitol after your life at Amity?' This place is amazing, you people are insane, and I'm tired.

Of course, I said none of these things as I stumbled past the crowd and into a cool building, where I collapse onto an armchair and drift asleep.

•

Someone is shaking me. I snap my head up and observe them. It is someone from the Capitol, looking disgustedly down at me, as if it is an effort to be near me. I don't know why I expected someone from a faction country. I'm in the Capitol now. This is how I will wake up from now on.

She pushes me up the first two steps, and then daintily skips ahead, her long thin heels clacking as she walks up the marble steps. She takes me down twisting winding corridors, that all have doors saying:

**OBSERVATION & PREPERATION**

Engraved on a sign beneath a small window in the door. The walls are all white, the floors are white, and I am about to fall asleep on my feet. The lady drags me into a room, where all chatter from three women stop. I am sure that I see one of them shiver in discomfort.

I cross my arms.

The lady who escorted me pats a hard metal table with only slight dents for my body to slip into.

"Get on then." she squeaks in a shrill, accented voice. Within a second she has fled from the room, and it's just me and the staring women. I walk on stiff legs over to the table, all tiredness forgotten. I am too scared of what they will do to me.

I look up at the ceiling and they crowd around me on wheelie chairs.

"Right," one of them sighs. "Let's get to work!"


	7. The Capitollans

**Yo :P**

**I've made some changez. So that you don't have to read back:**

**The dirty scene doesn't happen.**

**Max pulls Jared off and blames it on being over protective, so Grace doesn't like him much for that, cos she loves Jared and Max is just getting in the way.**

**Their parents didn't have any contraceptives so they just plain had kids before they were reaped. No weird unbelievable 'feelings' about anything. Or rape scenes...**

Chapter Six

The Capitollans

I grit my teeth and try not to shriek as the hair on my legs, arms and underarms gets uprooted with a sticky strip. It hurts so much. Being in Amity, the worst I've ever had happen to me, is when I tripped once and fell on my knee. And that only stung a little. This, is almost unbearable.

The Capitol are so advanced. Surely they've created a painless version of this by now? I want to ask but I don't, because I'm biting my bottom lip and trying to seem strong. The first time I squeaked in surprise, but when they move onto plucking my eyebrows, I really have so suck in air between my teeth each time the woman with white hair leans forward with her tools. And it's not just white. It's a blinding colour that I can't even look at whiteout squinting. Like white sunshine in the morning. Except you don't get used to it.

She leans back. I get the impression that she is the leader, or at least the most important among these women.

"All done. Now if you could just go through that door and you'll meet your stylist."

I wear nothing but the white robe they hand me as I walk through, and sit down on the comfy leather chair. As soon as I am seated, a man I didn't notice spins around in his chair, rubbing his fingers together and looking me up and down. His skin is a midnight black, dotted with little gems that sparkle like the stars I sometimes see when the electricity works at night. He wears a white shirt with a black waistcoat with white trousers and black chains hanging off the sides, like dungarees, but with...chains. His hair is short from the back and sides, but at the front a little strip is white and quiffed, in a star shape.

"Stand up," he says. I do as I am told hesitantly, because this man scares me. "Take off the robe." he commands.

"But there are windo-"

"Take it _off_." he repeats, and I shake a little as the soft material flutters to the ground. He looks up and down, his expression unchanged. "And back on."

I bend down with relief to gather up the impossibly thin material. Warmth floods through me as I put it back on. Although we are high up, this room is made completely of glass, apart from the door and chairs, and I can't resist but to look around and shrug my garment higher up on my shoulders. The man nods at me.

"My name is Felix." he says. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn't, so I blurt,

"My name is Grace."

"You're from Amity?"

"Yes."

His look softens. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" I feel slightly irritated at his remark.

"You're going to die." he shrugs his shoulders as if I don't matter at all. I clench my fists, and unclench. I breath out through gritted teeth. I may not look like much, but right now, I swear to myself that I will die trying to show everyone that things aren't always what they seem.

"I probably will, you're right. But I'm offended that you immediately came to that conclusion. How do you know I won't make the last twenty?" I retort.

"You're from Amity. Your people have won once." he says matter-of-factly.

"This games will be different." I say with meaning, and an amused glint crosses Felix's eyes. I look deeper to notice that they are black, with little white glints. Like looking through a telescope, up at the night sky.

"And you're from Amity?" he says. I have already explained this, and my blood is boiling. It makes sense for him to think this way of the Amity, but not of me. I feel that he is judging from his opinion on me. A little ginger girl, thin as a stick, a little taller than average height, and long hair that grows down to my waist. If I were blonde and more cheerful, my eyes a less sharp and slanted shape, I would be the stereotypical Amity girl.

"Yes. I am." I cock my head and smile at him, as if to say, 'Problem?'. Felix laughs at this. He is not so scary as I thought. He is more like a cunning artist, as he has dressed himself so well. He seemed over the top at first, but I feel now like he has such an authentic outfit, that it is hard not to get lost in it's beauty. He has copied the sky so well, and I wonder how he does it, since Lucy's mother told me that you can't see the sky in the Capitol, because the clouds cover the sky, even at night.

"You know how the Parade works?" I nod, but he continues anyway. "You come down in a huge golden float pulled by horses with the rest of your wave, and you wear costumes representing your faction. Usually red and yellow for you."

I know all this. Felix is so focused on the task, like he isn't interested in my life at all. But in a way, I appreciate that. I don't want to talk about it, because now, I have to appear strong. I am not going to cry in front of anyone, especially not my stylist, who is very different to how I expected him to be. I think he understands me, and I feel my ice cold heart warm a little, knowing that I will not have to jut put up with him throughout this time before the games, which I still don't quite believe I'm going into.

Felix looks at me with his night-like eyes.

"Any ideas?" he asks me. I am confused.

"I'm not the only one in the wave y'know."

"I know," he says in a slightly irritated tone. "but you're the only one who hasn't burst into tears so far."

I smile at this. Of course, I should not smile at the Amity's pain, but his comment is a compliment to me, a starter for my target.

"Well what is we have the girls in dresses instead of skirts for once?" I suggest.

"Of course, they would have to be short. Maybe around twenty centimeters above the knee." he raises his eyebrows in question at me.

"Yeah, ok. What about a pale yellow colour, and then the boys could wear red suits?" I ask again. Felix nods thoughtfully. He is completely at home in this area of our conversation, and I don't stop him from babbling on completely for about twenty minutes with me. After that he checks his watch and shows me to the door.

"Now remember, I have lots of ideas to choose from and work with, so yours might not be up there." he warns me. I really don't care what I'm wearing. I think Felix notices that, and he smiles and chuckles a little, before closing the door behind me.

I am back in the Observation and Preparation room, but the women aren't here. Now they, were the perfect example of Capitollans. Even in my extreme pain they were talking about the latest fashions and dying their skin in metallic colours like gold and silver. They may as well have been speaking a different language because I didn't understand a word they're saying.

I peek my head out of the steel door, looking down the hallway to see a Peacekeeper leaning against the wall to my left. He nods at me, and grabs my wrist forcefully.

"Come with me." he says in a roughly edged voice. I don't really have a choice, do I?

It's weird. Lately I've been thinking differently, like when I was speaking to Felix in that room. He insulted me, and I lashed out. That's not me. I'm not usually thinking this way either. But it is the Capitol. Don't I have the right to think of them like that, after everything they've done to the Factions over the centuries?

Not by their rules.

We walk down endless corridors, which all look exactly the same; grey walls, grey floors, grey ceilings, all made of stone, and very cold. I have never been in a stone room, or building before. It's always been wood, in Amity. And that makes me realise how big Panem is. I've only ever known Amity, and seen brief flashes of the glorious Capitol, and seen teens from other factions. But I know nothing of how their homes look, what their culture is like, how they act when they're not stuck in one giant, cruel, and inhumane bloodbath.

When the games start, I'm going to have a huge shock.

We eventually reach carpeted hallways, and the Peacekeeper leaves me standing in front of a windowless wooden door.

"The rest of your wave is in there, along with your mentor and your dinner."

Dinner? But I only woke up a couple of hours ago! How long was I asleep..? I shake off the thought, and push open the door. To my surprise, it's just my mentor, and a long table, bare of any food, just set out with cutlery, cups, and a strange sort of fabric rolled up in a ball. Henry Innman nods to me as I come in and sit down at the table.

"You're the first to arrive back. Don't worry, the others will be here any minute." he says. I took an instant disliking to him the moment I spoke to him. He was in my car on the way to the train station, and told me how no one knows they are about to be kidnapped and taken to the Hunger Games when they go to bed on the reaping day. He left the Amity, and hid up a tree for weeks, with a river directly below, and a berry bush right next to it. He abandoned the rest of his wave, and never spoke to anyone. For that reason alone, he is hated within our faction.

The door opens, and a boy I faintly recognise comes in, barely twelve years old. After him is a girl, only a year younger than me, although I don't know her by name.

But after those two, a rugged, sleepless boy comes in, and I leap up from my chair.

It's Jared.


	8. Training

Chapter Seven

Training

I jump straight out of my chair, and run towards him.

"Grace?" he says, and runs what little way there is left between us. I wrap my arms around him, lifting high up on my tip toes to get a proper hug. I breath in, his familiar scent wreathing around me, and I don't ever want to let go. But this isn't a good thing. I can't treat this as a good thing.

"Jared." I murmur into his clothes. He has changed clothes, just like me, but instead, to a set of grey slacks and a white T-shirt. Did his carriage not has any Amity colours? Surely it did. Then why didn't he put them on? Maybe it reminded him too much of home. Jared is a sensitive guy, and I love him, honestly, with all my heart for that. And I know he loves me. At first he wasn't sure, but the fact that we are together now...I am sure that we are meant to be together. I know that sounds cheesy, but I feel like we are. And I have never felt this way about someone before.

I didn't realise it before, but seeing him walk in, his posture hunched and his appearance pitiful, I understand just how much I want to win the Games. There is, of course, a small part of me that knows I cannot win, but at least I will die with him.

I want us to make it out alive. Don't we deserve to? Stripped of our homes, families, and futures, but he's here. In the same room as me, going into the Hunger Games with me...what if I die before he does? Because he is tall, and if not for the lack of food, he would be strong and muscular, I am sure it would be me who dies first.

I look deep into his eyes. In the few stories I am allowed to read in the library, the romantic ones always say that. _As I looked deep into his eyes, his soul - _And I see warm eyes. They are crinkled at the edges, glad to see me, but there is a fearful glaze on them, as if he is also worried for me. I feel exactly the same for him, except I probably am not so worried for him as he is for me, because he is very capable of handling himself.

I want to win these Games, and return with Jared. If that means, abandoning my wave or faction members, then that's what I'll do. I just couldn't bear it if he died, and so not just for him, but for myself, we need to return to Amity. It's no longer a target, it is a future. I've decided that.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers dramatically. I have to keep myself from giggling because he sounds like some actor from a theatre play. "Do you understand what I mean by that?" he asks, and I nod. Of course I do. This is the Hunger Games, he's sorry that we are going to have to face what we will face. We will see teenagers die around us, and I wonder, can I cope with that?

Probably not.

I'm a human being. Human beings aren't meant to watch others die. Human beings aren't meant to be taken away from everything they know, and dumped, unprepared, into a giant arena full of kids who want to kill them.

"We're going to win together." I say to him, barely breathing as I hold him. He looks wary, as if he doesn't believe it. I guess he doesn't want to lie to me. He doesn't want to make promises he can't keep. Well nor do I, but I want him to realise our potential as a team.

"We are." I shake him gently. His loving look returns, and he nods.

I'm glad he's being so acceptive. Of course, I have liked him, loved him, whatever you want to call it, for two years. But he hasn't, and is loving me as I love him, and being cheesy with me. I'm thinking in a way that I would usually laugh at. I'm thinking like the Amity girls.

I am an Amity girl...I mean the other girls. When I'm around Jared I become sweet, and kind and perfect and peaceful, everything he wants me to be.

"Um, should we sit down?" he chuckles. I let go, and move backwards, freeing him from my tight grip, subtly combing my hair in my face to hide my burning cheeks.

He takes a seat at the end of the left side of the table, and I sit next to him, as more, and more tributes drift in. No one I know personally, no one of too much importance to me. That sounds cruel in my head. What I mean is, at least Max isn't here. Or Lucy. Of course, I vaguely know all these people, but Lucy is the only sweet, giggly girl I've been able to bear, because she is really good with friendship advice. I've had loads of friends, but not in recent years, because I've dropped behind in class, to lower groups, so we don't see each other, or have much time to talk. And Lucy is always there for me. You can't look at her without smiling, and whenever I've had problems, she's been there most of the time, to work things out for me. I guess I take her for granted sometimes.

Even though she's annoying, she's still my closest friend.

The last of the tributes come in, and one of the Peacekeepers watching over us closes the door. Other doors open, and women and men in red clothing come in, holding plates of something I suppose is meant to be food. And it looks like meat.

This is kind of a big problem, since any meat that the Amity eat isn't real meat. It's all factory made. This looks a bit like the factory made steak we have occasionally. And when we have it, it's usually in super thin slivers, literally the width of the peel on an apple. But this steak, if that's what it is, is a hot pink colour that hurts my eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see lots of the kids at our table look away, or cover their eyes as it passes in. It does smell delicious though, so when they set the plates down on the table, I dig in.

Jared leans close and whispers my name. I look up just as I'm biting into my meat, and see that no one else has dared to try it, and are all staring at me. The flavour explodes in my mouth, and looking at my plate, I don't know if I've ever seen so much food at one time. I need to fatten myself up before the games, but I know this first meal will be hard to digest. As soon as the steak is in my mouth, I know it hasn't actually come from the insides of a cow.

"It's alright, it's factory made." I explain with my mouthful. I have barely finished speaking when the other girls and boys hurriedly pick up their forks and start eating.

The pink steak is blue on the inside, but it's been cooked to exactly the right temperature, and for exactly the right amount of time. I have all my steak, and tell myself to slow down, or I'll throw up. I haven't ever had this kind of rich food before, nor have I ever had so much on my plate. But I'm still starving, and so I start on a strange vegetable I've never had before..it's green, and looks a little bit like a tree, but is doused in thin, warm brown sauce that I can smell is a kind of stir fry sauce. We have stir fry noodles in a little cup once a year. It signifies the start of autumn, as a cup of milk signifies the start of spring, soup is the start of winter, and a cube of flavoured ice is the start of summer.

For a drink, I'm given apple juice, by a lady in red. I've made apple juice countless times to try and earn money, because although everything is taken care of now, when I am nineteen, I will move out of the young adult's block, and the state and size of my room then will all depend on how much money I have earned. Not to mention the electrical bills for the T.V I don't want, but must have to watch children being slaughtered every year.

"Grace, are you ok?" I hear Jared say quietly.

"Hm? Oh yes, I'm fine." I say. I keep wandering off lately, I have to be more focused! Especially if I'm gonna return home to Amity with Jared.

After we've eaten, the Peacekeepers tell us to get in a line, and they escort us to a tower block, a big thing made of concrete, that looks dull, and slightly haunted to my eyes. But inside, it's all big and fancy, chandeliers and thick carpets that I imagine digging my toes into, and patterns engraved on the brass door handles. I squeeze Jared's hand and he squeezes mine back, although when I look at him he doesn't meet my eyes.

"This your apartment for the next five days. Isn't it splendid?" Metella Yellowman squeals, popping up behind us from seemingly nowhere. I didn't see her join us. And she's hard to miss in her puffy pink dress and ball of curls attached to her head.

"But we're going straight down to the training room today. You don't get to train with the other factions though, you should know that's only a myth. The Games are completely fair!" she chirps, and our wave exchange sarcastic glances and disbelieving snorts, to which Metella seems oblivious. The Dauntless, since they supply weapons and mining materials to the Capitol, have often had a weapon in their hands before, and will know how to use a gun or knife. The Amity on the other hand...well. Let's just say the sharpest thing I've ever held was a butter knife. And those are completely blunt and useless compared to the daggers that the Dauntless wield.

We get into a huge elevator that somehow fits all of us, and I feel us going down into the ground. A little ping goes off in the elevator, and the doors slide open on all sides to reveal that we have arrived in the middle of a harshly lit grey room, filled with different stalls. Just looking in one area I can see some sort of agility course, and next to it, a stand holding swords and spears on a rack. But there's also survival stalls, with trainers telling you how to build a fire, or camouflage yourself, and even what berries are safe to eat and what leaves help with different wounds and illnesses. We are given a brief speech on what we're not allowed to do, but I pay little attention, since most of the rules are to not fight another tribute, or use a weapon outside of it's specified area, which I wouldn't dare to do anyway. Jared goes off to the agility course, and so I walk towards the poisonous berries test. I get about five minutes to memorise fifty berries, and then I have to tap their pictures on a white screen to sort them into poisonous and edible in a minute. Double tap is poisonous, one tap is edible. The first time that I try it, I manage to do them all, but I get three wrong. But it's not bad considering that the little boy next to me is getting almost every single berry wrong. I shuffle towards him.

"Do you need some help?" I ask him gently. He looks up at me, and I try to smile reassuringly. He's the boy from the car next to me on that night, I remember his face. I think he remembers me too, and he nods.

"Well, I don't get the difference between this one and this one." he frowns, pointing to a dark red berry and one with a slightly different leaf at the top.

"Ah, you see, on a bush you'd know straight away, because the second one has a more jagged leaf, and a longer stem." I point to the screen.

"Most red berries aren't really ok to eat, but this one," I point to a red berry with seeds in it and little leaves spurting from the top. "And this one," I show him another red berry with a very long stem and a slightly darker colour. "Are pretty tasty."

The boy smiles up at me and sorts them. We talk for about two minutes, and I teach him to pay attention to all the minor details, like when you zoom in on a picture, what does the texture look like, things like that. When he takes the test again he gets them all right. He's not exactly a child but he's cute, and has a young face, so I enjoy showing him things. It's like the little brother that I never had. Not like Max...

"Thanks! My name's Ollie." he tells me, and the name rings a bell, and I wonder why I didn't remember it before. He has quite spiky blonde hair and brown eyes, and has only just turned twelve.

"I'm Grace, I'm 15 years old." I say, and hug him, our way of shaking hands in Amity.

He moves on to the agility course, and I learn how to make a fire with one of the instructors. A couple of the older boys have attempted the spears, and I see Jared with a sword, looking anxious, like he shouldn't be holding it. Looking around at our little group is quite frankly depressing. Ollie seems to be the youngest of us, but none of my wave look ready to win the Hunger Games. We need to have a serious team talk.


End file.
